Author's Note: For the record, this is not the end. One chapter left. Gotta wrap everything up in a nice little bow.
Also, thank you to everyone who has reviewed since my sudden return. I truly appreciate your encouragement and support.
GREGOIRE
The Masquerade began the moment a guest stepped down from their carriage in front of the Dubois house. The front of the entire estate had been draped in gauzy white material and backlit by hundreds of torches and paper lanterns. The effect was ethereal; it was like walking through clouds.
Lights formed a path that guided guests through the front garden, to the back of the house, where the ballroom's many doors had been thrown open and the paths and doors covered with hundreds of plants and flowers. Foliage climbed across wood and glass, over stone and plaster, so that the house seemed to blend seamlessly into the garden.
The ballroom itself was also covered in thin, delicate white fabric that wafted in the slightest breeze. Garlands of white flowers and lush greenery were everywhere, twined around tables and lanterns and walls and columns. Gardenia, white peonies and roses, daisies and tulips. The whole house smelled incredible. The golden glow of countless candles spilled out into the darkness, carried along with the cacophonous murmur of countless voices.
It was an event that would be talked about for years to come. It was utterly magnificent; a feat of design and imagination that made the King's coronation look like a tea party.
Greg's mother had truly outdone herself.
And if he'd been able to find her, he certainly would have told her as much. But she had disappeared at least an hour ago, and somehow Greg had managed to land himself in the center of a large group of giggling young debutants, each of whom seemed wholly determined to hound his every step from now until the Day of Judgment.
He craned his neck in search of help, and found it in the form of his enormous brother-in-law, who stood in the shadows on the opposite side of the room, swathed all in black and standing so still he looked more like a statue than a man. But when Greg sent him a pleading look, Samson instantly started towards him, eliciting a chorus of gasps - and even one faint shriek - when the guests nearby realized he was more than just a decoration.
The crowd parted around him like the Red Sea, and when he approached Greg, the oppressive cluster of women in which Greg had been mired suddenly and miraculously dissipated.
"Thank God for you, Samson," Greg said simply. Then he grinned. "Where is your wife? It's almost time for the unmasking."
Samson's golden eyes flickered within the shadow of his hood. "Still packing," he said, and though his voice was just as deep and ominous as it always was, Greg could easily detect the smile in Samson's words. "I did not think it was possible to own that many shoes."
Greg laughed. "My friend, you have no idea."
They stood in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Samson suddenly turned to look at something behind them. Greg followed suit and waited. A moment later, Lena appeared amidst the crowd, nearly glowing in a brilliant white confection of lace and silk and tiny, sparkling crystal beads that winked and flashed in the candle light.
Her wedding gown.
Though, now, with the addition of a white-feathered cloak and a delicate gold filigree mask, she looked more like an angel than a bride.
As with Samson, the crowd ebbed around her, and whispers followed her movements. Greg bowed as she approached, but her eyes were fixed on Samson.
"I know you," she said quietly, following the tradition of all Masquerades. She held out her hand, and Samson bowed over it.
"I am your companion," Samson replied. Lena smiled up at him, and Greg had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Newlyweds were always so… mushy. He started formulating an excuse to leave.
Luckily, his cousin chose that moment to appear.
"There you are!" Abby said, rushing in from behind Greg and nearly knocking him over in her haste to get to Samson and Lena. Greg might have been concerned, but for the dazzling smile on Abby's face. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Allez, viens! I have a surprise!"
Lena exchanged a glance with her husband, then turned and followed Abby through the crowd. Greg followed as well, curious to see what his cousin was up to.
She led them out of the ballroom and down the hallway that held the gaming tables and parlors. A few rooms had been set aside for general use, in case of ladies with wardrobe tears or health issues who might need rest. It was to one of those parlors that Abby led them, a quiet room that faced the front gardens of the house.
Jasper was the only occupant of the room, leaning casually against the mantle by the fireplace. When their small group entered the room, he moved forward in a flash and pulled Abby into his arms.
Abby turned to them and smiled. "Jasper has asked me to marry him."
A flurry of joy exploded through the room, and a great deal of hugging and handshaking followed. Greg smiled; he was truly happy for them. Monty and Abby were an excellent match; both were intelligent and passionate, and both had a bold streak of mischief in them. They clearly were in love, and Greg knew they would do well together.
Watching the two couples sent a jolt of happiness through Greg. Then his smile turned wry. Love had become a pervasive presence in the Dubois household lately; he wondered if perhaps he should quarantine himself to avoid catching a bad case of it. He did not need another complication in his life.
He gave Abby and Monty his congratulations, and then he slipped out of the room to find a measure of quiet peace in the hallway.
Fate, however, clearly had other plans in mind, for the moment he pulled the door shut behind him and turned, he found himself face to face with a beautiful, middle-aged woman with dark, exotic eyes and a brilliant smile. She rushed forward and wrapped him in a painfully tight hug.
"Gregoire, mon petit chou! Look at you! Oh, how you have grown!"
Greg chuckled. "Hello, Aunt Safie. How are you?"
"I am wonderful, now that Abigail is finally getting married," his aunt said wryly. "I thought it would never happen. I was beginning to despair…"
"Safie, darling," a laughing voice said from behind them, "let the poor boy breathe." Greg turned, and his Uncle Felix reached out and shook his hand, grinning. "You heard the news?"
Greg nodded. "They just told us."
"He came to see us the moment we got into town, this afternoon," Felix said. "I never thought I'd meet someone more stubborn and persuasive than our Abigail."
Greg laughed. "He's a good man, Uncle Felix. He helped us rescue Lena and Abby; he'll take good care of her."
Felix's smile faded to concern. He lowered his voice, despite the fact that there was no one else in the hallway at the moment, and said quietly, "Abigail told us what happened. Is… is it true, Gregoire? Is he… is it really him?"
Greg hesitated. He knew the story; he knew what had happened all those years ago, between Samson and the De Laceys.
He knew it was not his place to interfere.
And yet…
After all the things Samson had done for him…
He couldn't refuse the opportunity to do something in return.
"Yes," he said simply. "He is one of the best men I know." And then he gestured to the door of the parlor and smiled. "Would you like to meet him?"
SAMSON
The moment the voices reached him from the hallway, he went very still.
Abby continued speaking, unaware of the current of tension that had just snapped to life within Samson, but beside him, Lena laced her fingers in his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She knew something was wrong. When he looked down at her, she was watching him with a worried expression on her face.
On impulse, Samson leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. A bolt of heat shot through him, tingling across his skin and hers. That, at least, erased her frown. But it did nothing to ease the concern in her eyes.
"Um… Samson, I think you just… sparkled a bit," Abby said, bewildered.
"My apologies," Samson replied, struggling to resist the urge to kiss his wife again.
"I've noticed that before," Jasper said, looking up from pouring himself a small glass of cognac on the other side of the room. "Does it happen often?"
"Occasionally," Samson replied. He lifted his free hand and snapped his fingers together, and a tiny mote of light flew up into the air and winked out of existence. "We think it has something to do with heart rate and brain activity."
Especially with physical exertion and strong emotion. It had happened several times in the past few days, especially on their wedding night, lighting up their bed like fireflies.
Luckily, the sparks were not painful. They tingled a bit and, if they were strong enough, they gave a mild static shock. But Lena hadn't minded them in the least.
However, thinking of their wedding night caused a flurry of sparks to dance around their clasped hands, which made Lena giggle. Samson smiled down at her.
"I love you," he said quietly.
"I love you, too," she replied.
The door to the parlor opened.
Samson's hand tightened around Lena's.
He took a deep, calming breath.
And then he turned to face Felix and Safie De Lacey for the first time in thirteen years.
They stood in the doorway, arm in arm, looking directly at him. They were older than he remembered. Felix's dark hair was graying at the temples, and Safie's long, black tresses had been pulled up into a lovely, elaborate style.
But they were both just as beautiful, and just as frightening.
Safie's eyes filled with tears. Felix's jaw clenched. Together, they slowly approached Samson, until they were within arm's reach of him.
It was only Lena's calming touch that kept Samson grounded. He stood perfectly still, afraid to move, afraid to speak, to break the spell of silence that had fallen over them. He waited, not knowing what to say, not knowing how to ask forgiveness.
And then Felix stepped forward and held out his hand.
And Samson reached out and took it.
"All these years," Felix said quietly, "I have wished, more times than I can count, that I could somehow make things right. That I could go back and do things differently. You saved our lives, and I repaid you with cruelty." He took a deep breath. "Thank you, Samson," he whispered. "Thank you for everything."
Samson smiled, and opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, Safie rushed forward and threw her arms around him, sobbing loudly.
Beside him, Lena chuckled. Samson glanced over and found Abby rolling her eyes and Jasper grinning.
A knock sounded on the door. Greg poked his head into the room, took in the scene before him, and offered up a wry, charming smile.
"It's time."